


forever

by milkovichh



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, if you look carefully, kind of, proposal, teeny weeny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkovichh/pseuds/milkovichh
Summary: It’s been a long time, a small thought nagging the older’s mind. He realised a while ago that he wanted he and Ian to be end game — he just had to do something about it.





	forever

The lines had been blurred for a long time, unfocused and messy. It had taken so long — years, in fact — to work everything out, with highs and lows to match their dysfunctional lives. It was difficult to pinpoint the exact time that Mickey realised he loved Ian. He didn’t know where the transition came, from being a closeted asshole who fucked anyone who was down (including the redhead), leading the middle Gallagher brother on by always coming back, to being as smitten as he was for Ian. Hell, he didn’t even know when he stopped calling him by his surname. Maybe the younger, dirtier, stupider version of himself hated the thought that Ian was more than just a good lay; he was sweet, kind, funny, accepting. He was everything Mickey had never had in his life, and Ian had once even said they had nothing to be ashamed of.

  Mickey had a slighter clearer idea of when the word ‘love’ came into it. Of course, it started with other people asking questions. Carl, Svetlana ... that was when it got to be a thought, more than a feeling. However, the _feeling_ ... the raven-haired still had little clue. For so long, he hadn’t wanted to admit to it.

  See, it wasn’t until his wedding day that he properly thought he did love the boy. Outwardly, he told him still that they were only banging. Inwardly, he knew. Marrying Svetlana meant breaking Ian Gallagher’s heart properly, something of which he wasn’t sure he could do. Back then, he had remembered that he was a Milkovich, and there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do down to just some pathetic feelings. It took him until he saw the way Ian hesistated in seeing him, the way his face fell at the word ‘wife’, the ring, and the way his own heart throbbed when he failed to stop Ian from leaving to the army.

  It had taken losing him too many times to finally be able to say he loved him.

 

All this aside, Mickey was happy with how far they’d come. Sure, he’d left for Mexico thinking it was the end of the rollercoaster of a relationship they had. Thinking that he had left the most important thing in his life behind, to go back to his boyfriend and job and normal life, while he ran from the police and hid away like he had when he was a teen. Of course, it was never that easy. Looking at Ian now as they sat on the roof of an abandoned building, throwing stones and watching them hit the earth, Mickey knew that he could never have left him so easily at the border like that.

  And Ian? He worked it all out, too. For Mickey, which showed the brunet that he cared for him far more than he had let on originally. He left his boyfriend. Left his attempt at ‘normal’ and went back to Mickey, knowing that nothing else in any of his years could give him the same thrill — the same _happiness_ — as Mickey Milkovich had. 

  “Mick?”

  Regardless of never being much of a romantic or poet, Mickey could honestly write endless words about his boyfriend. His voice was as sweet as honey, soothing and somewhat raspy all at once. It was beautiful. He was beautiful, as his green eyes weren’t just green in the setting sunlight. They were forests on the outside, swirls of dark emerald and sage, though had a tinge of gold within the sweeping blue and green seas, even small tinges of hazel outlining the pupil. Jesus, Mickey had it bad.

  “Ay?”

  “You’re zonin’ out.”

  Instead of commenting on what was said, with something snarky or rude, Mickey finally let out something he’d been too prideful to say. Something he’d thought since day one. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, man.”

  Those green eyes widened slightly, blinking in confusion. Then, his lips twitched up a little, looking ever so soft. Loving, even. “Gorgeous?” he questioned, head tilting in that puppy way.

  “Mhm,” the brunet confirmed, looking down to the ground far below from the roof. Mickey had never feared heights, never feared much, until he met Gallagher. The boy had made him fear himself the most — what he was becoming. He hated the way his stomach swarmed with butterflies, the way his skin felt tingly and loved when it was touched by pale fingertips, the way his heart pounded when he heard the simple name, the way he felt like he needed validation by Gallagher’s terms, when he’d never had that problem before. 

  “You’re gorgeous, too, Mickey.”

  “Fuck off,” the younger mumbled, that being his go-to response for most things. He saw Ian smile, though, which brightened him slightly. That smile was everything he wanted to see in one small action, it was bright and true and it was for him. Ian was his, and he was Ian’s. “Ay, I gotta talk to you ’bout somethin’.”

  Raising a curious brow, Ian turnes to face Mickey more. It was rare for the Milkovich to want to talk about something seriously. He’d spent too long dealing with his true emotions with violence or avoiding them entirely, which worked out fine until Ian came along; wanting to be free, wanting to talk things out, wanting to _love_. 

  Shit, he’d been thinking about this for a long time. Since Ian broke up with him, the thought went away, because Ian had shoved Mickey’s feeling right back into his face. He’d struck a nerve when he mocked “getting married like some old queens”, knowing full well that Mickey had only recently come to terms with his sexuality and loving him, that Mickey wanted to stray far away from every fucking stereotype because he knew this would be hard but he was willing to try. For Ian. After getting back together, it had been uncomfortable to fall back into old habit, worrying falling in too deep only to be shot down once again. But Ian wasn’t manic anymore, he was the same goofy Ian Gallagher that he’d been when they were fifteen years old. 

  “What is it?”

  It took a few minutes of complete silence for the words to work themselves into an order in Mickey’s mind. Ian knew not to push his boyfriend, for if it was as big as it seemed to be, the brunet would take his time. He needed to take his time, or else he’d back out and not come back to it for who knew how long? Things were going so well, Ian wouldn’t wanna fuck it up by hurrying the other to tell him something.

  “I, uh ... wanted to talk to you ’bout some sappy gay shit, a’ight? Don’t fuckin’ make fun of me.”

  A small grin worked up onto Ian’s mouth, since Mickey had never been much for ‘sappy gay shit’. “Won’t make fun of you. Promise.”

  “A’ight,” he sighed. “Okay. We’ve been through so much shit together, man. I was an ass, and — and I’m fuckin’ glad you didn’t give up on me, ’cause I don’t know what I’d do without you, y’know? I know I did things that made you leave ... fuck, believe me, I never wanted you to go. It fucking broke my heart to cross that border alone. And I know that ain’t your fault, ’cause you were givin’ up so much, but it hurt like a bitch. So when I came back, I thought we were over. That you’d move on.

  “And I’m so ... happy that you didn’t. You waited for me, even though I was toxic to you. I didn’t wanna fuck you up anymore, Ian, I just ... I had nobody else. You were all I had, all I _needed_ whether I liked it or not. And I know I ain’t great at, like, words and shit, but I wanted to tell you that I want us to be together ... like, until the end, do you know what I mean?”

  He chanced bringing his eyes up to see Ian’s reaction, deep down terrified that this was too much for the redhead, that he’d shut him down. He was leaving himself so exposed, all his feelings on the table, and he couldn’t let himself be broken again.

  Ian, though, looked a mixture of confused, happy, and so fucking in love if Mickey ever saw it. He stumbled like the elegant bastard he was over his words, before he was speaking slowly. “Is this ... a proposal?”

  “I—” Mickey paused. “I mean, kinda. It’s like ... fuck, I dunno. I ain’t got you a fuckin’ ring or anythin’, it’s just ...” He stopped, sighing, feeling stupid and like this was too complex all at once. Never mind too much for Ian, this was too much for himself. Until Ian was putting an arm around him and kissing his hair, telling him it was okay. “Look— I wanna divorce Svetlana, okay? So we can eventually ... y’know, get married or some shit. Just ... tell me what you want. I’ll do it — fuck, I’ll do anythin’ for you, Ian.”

  “I ... I’d like that. I thought,” he hesistated, wondering if saying it would ruin things. Mickey was looking at him hopefully, expectant, though, so he said what he thought. “I thought it was just a piece of paper to you.”

  “No, Ian. Me and _Svetlana_ were just a piece of paper. You and me, we’re together, yeah? We don’t gotta get married to show it, but it’d be fuckin’ nice ... right?”

  “Yeah, Mick ...”

  “You don’t gotta say yeah, I just ... I just wanted you to know, I guess. I love you. And I’m in this ’til the end.”

  “This mean I can call you Mikhailo Gallagher now?”

  “No, fuck off. Not yet.”

  “Eventually?”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “I love you too, Mick.”


End file.
